Today we celebrate the monsoon.
Will we then come to hate the monsoon?
All night, I danced with him in the rain.
What could it not create, the monsoon.
She thought of love as flood. Was she wrong?
By then it was too late. The monsoon.
Clouds wear black masks and carry guns, wash
us away, no debate, the monsoon.
By now, the wind is nothing to me.
I am storm. I translate the monsoon.
